Ethyl Remembers: Thunder Storms

It rained in Bartlett last night. The storm came complete with thunder and lightening. Still, I went to bed and slept soundly. Such was not always the case. For years, even after I married and moved away, when it would storm and there was thunder and lightening I would always have an unsettling fear I had left something important out in the rain and it would be ruined, completely destroyed.
I could never figure out why this was so. What was it about thunder storms that made me tense and apprehensive. Why did they bring on such an overpowering feeling of gloom and doom.
I don't know what it was that triggered the memory, but one day I remembered the tornado that blew away our barn and killed one of Daddy's cows. The same storm took the roof off the front of the house, and I remember my mother standing at the front door with a broom frantically trying to keep the water out. It made no difference. The water came flooding in.
When she finally decided her attempts were futile and there was a very real possibility the entire house might go, she woke my little brother and she took me by the hand and we made our way to the neighbor's storm cellar, just down the road. The storm house, as it was called, was merely a hole dug in the side of a red clay hill with some protective planks and tin serving as a roof. It was dark and damp and smelled like earth, and I always had the fear a snake or two might try and seek shelter with us. The furniture inside consisted of wooden planks placed on concrete blocks pushed firmly against the walls. The only light we had was a kerosene lantern that glowed eerily inside the dark tomb. I remember being a little girl of about six and sitting silently, listening to the destruction going on outside our damp, dark refuge.
Then I remembered what I had feared for so many years. The fear I had left something important outside. In our hurry to leave the house, I left behind my one doll. Her name was Janice, and Mama bought her for me at the dollar store. She was the most cherished possession I had at the time, and I was so afraid the storm would blow her away. Never mind the house, just don't let my doll get blown away.
Once I remembered the storm, I no longer had the feeling I would lose something dear if it rained. In fact, in some cases I could even enjoy the storm, as long as it didn't seem too powerful.
Which leaves me to wonder. How many things do we experience in our childhoods that shape our outlook on things even when we are grown. How many have we forgotten, and yet are still haunted by them. Why are we the unique individuals we are.